Cured
by FloNightingale
Summary: On August 20 three years ago, I took the cure...
1. Prologue

**I decided it was time I stopped reading X-Men fics and started writing one. So here's the first part to a piece that's been cooking for awhile. Now, I am not very good at keeping up with a multi-chapter work. So please, review! Keep my muse alive! -Flo**

**Disclaimer: I own none of the people, places, or things that you recognize from hereafter!**

* * *

It was raining the night of October 15. Seven of the younger teachers sat playing a friendly game of poker in the television room while most of the students got ready for bed. No one paid any mind to the ringing buzzer that signaled an arrival at the outer gate. It was most probably USPS.

In her office, Ororo Munroe looked in shock at the screen playing the live camera feed from the front gate.

"Logan!" she called, her voice a bit more shrill than usual. She was surprised he wasn't already at the front door.

"What is it? Another hate group found the address?" the Canadian was confused by the apprehensive look on her face, and moved around her desk to see what she was staring at. As soon as his eyes found the screen, he was bolting down the main hallway.

Logan slammed open the front door, leaving it open as he sprinted through the rain down the long driveway. Outside of the locked gate stood a young woman that had not been on the grounds in three years. A faded green hooded sweatshirt covered the telltale white stripe running through her long brown hair, but Logan would know her anywhere. Charles had told him an ancient Greek legend about soulmates: one soul within two people, so close that they could sense each other inexplicably.

"Marie." Her name from his lips made her look up from her feet. She stayed silent while he opened the gate for her, hugging herself tightly to protect against the chill of the rain.

The dull ache in her eyes was a physical pain in Logan's chest. He let his tough exterior fade behind his concern and wrapped his arms around the small woman. He gently led her back down the driveway towards the mansion. She seemed like she was on autopilot; her legs moved on instinct and her eyes were focused on something entirely separate from reality. At that moment, Logan could feel only despair from the Southern girl.

There was no one in the hallways as Logan walked Marie towards the Professor's old office. He led her past the open TV room, ignoring the wide, blue-eyed stare that followed them. Kitty Pryde dropped her cards to the table, craning her neck to watch the pair turn the corner.

He had respected her wish to be alone when she left. Or rather, he had listened to Ororo when she ordered him not to follow the cured Rogue. He looked back on this order with rage as he observed Marie's complete mental detachment, but seeing the tears in Ororo's eyes he decided not to let the anger loose yet. The now-seasoned principal hurried around her desk to embrace Rogue.

"Oh, Marie," she gently pushed the hood back from Rogue's head.

"Storm?" her voice was tiny and weak. Logan blinked. His voice had had no effect on her, but she woke from her stupor at Ororo's gentle words. "I'm so sorry." She broke down, falling to her knees. The weather witch dropped with her, holding Rogue in a close hug as the younger woman sobbed.

"Tell me what happened, Marie." Ororo saw Logan back into a corner with her peripheral vision, his arms crossed over his chest and a cantankerous look on his face.

"Can I—" she hesitated. "I haven't eaten in two days."

"Of course. Let's get you something to eat."

Rogue ate as daintily as she ever had, taking tiny bites from her meat-loaded sandwich. But she was completely silent otherwise despite the two older mutants staring intently at her. Logan hovered by the door, out of her sight but protecting her nonetheless. He knew she wouldn't want any of her old classmates to see her like this, so he turned anyone he saw away from the door as soon as they approached for a late night snack.

After she had eaten enough to satisfy her appetite, she followed readily enough back to Ororo's office. She sat on the comfortable sofa chair before the fireplace.

"I know it must be difficult for you," Ororo said slowly. "But, I do not have the Professor's power. I cannot tell what is bothering you or why you've come back. You need to tell me what happened so that I can help you."

Rogue stared blankly at the empty fireplace before glancing over the other two occupants of the room.

"On August 20 three years ago, I took the cure…"


	2. Chapter One

On August 20 three years ago, I took the cure. I waited in line for almost thirteen hours outside the clinic. There were three others around me who wanted to talk about why they were getting it: Andrea, Farley and Nick. Nick had come all the way from Missouri just to get the cure as soon as it came out. He emits some kind of radiation from his inner organs that sometimes makes him light up but mostly just gives people cancer.

Anyway, I got the shot and that was supposed to be it for me. I know Logan said I shouldn't make such an important decision based on a guy but it wasn't just one guy. It was every guy. I could not imagine a life without ever touching a boy. I kept seeing myself fifty years old and alone, the only virgin at the retirement home for muties.

I didn't think about how I would not fit in here anymore. I only saw myself getting back together with Bobby and living happily ever after. But it was so different having no power. I couldn't relate to anyone. For a week I tried to pretend everything was normal. But I knew the illusion would only hold up for so long. So I decided to leave.

I had always planned on traveling the country. I figured it was as good a time as any to start my travels: I was eighteen and a completely normal human girl.

My only problem was leaving Bobby behind. I had gotten the cure so that I could touch him and make our relationship work, after all. As a final effort to rekindle the flame we once had, I told him I was ready to go all the way.

It was the first time for both of us: fumbling and awkward in his dark, locked bedroom. He was so nervous he could barely keep it up at first, but we managed. It was nothing like I had imagined as a girl. I always thought I'd be married and in love, but I was just fighting to hold onto a fading emotion.

Besides that, I could barely see why people did it in the first place. Bobby was so uncomfortable I had to show him where to go. Neither of us knew what to do, and both of us were self-conscious enough not to admit to our inexperience.

When I woke up later that night, I knew it was time for me to leave. I packed a bag as fast as I could, and left through the window so Logan wouldn't hear me go. I did not want to see anyone and have to explain myself.

I walked through the night and into the next morning, until I had to stop to eat something. Of course, I'd forgotten to bring food with me. I was lucky to find a truck on the side of the interstate with a sleeping driver. I stole his lunch and ran as far as I could without stopping.

The first day was the worst. It was hotter than hot in the afternoon, and I couldn't afford to lose my jacket because I knew it might be cold wherever I ended up. My feet hurt, my back hurt, my head hurt, my shoulders hurt. I finally sat down next to a rotten tree trunk when the sun started to go down, and fell asleep.

The sun was bright the next day, so bright it woke me shortly after dawn. My whole body still ached after the long trek I made the day before, so I went slower. I got the idea while watching cars and trucks pass to hitch my way across the country. It worked last time, and I was willing to bet my life that it would work again.

So, I crooked my thumb at the next truck that approached, and waited. It felt like I waited for hours, but it was probably only one. A tired man in his mid-forties was driving his truck from New York City to Detroit and was glad to take me as far as I wanted. He never tried anything on me, although I gave him plenty of opportunities falling right asleep as soon as I sat in the cab. His name was Frank, and he was one of the many kind strangers I met in the last three years.

We talked about lots of things on the long ride to Detroit. He told me about his two infant sons and his poor young wife who struggled to keep up with the bills by working three jobs. I told him about growing up in Mississippi and the culture shock of moving to New York. We discussed everything from fishing to the mutant registration act.

I know he was sorry to let me out at the first bus depot we approached. He gave me all the money he kept in his glove compartment after trying to convince me to stay with friends of his. But I had an idea of someone who would welcome me. I remembered Nick hugging me before entering the sterile room in front of us, speaking an address in my ear and telling me to come visit when it was all over.

Well, it was definitely over. And I was going to take him up on his offer.

* * *

**Like it? Hate it? Think you can make it better? Review! -Flo**


	3. Chapter Two

To say Nick was surprised to see me would be a complete understatement. Especially the way I arrived: filthy, soggy and on foot. He was fixing his broken-down old Lincoln when I slowly made my way down the block. I was a little afraid he would turn me away when he first saw me. He just stood there, his face covered with shock and confusion.

But then he ran down the street to grab me in a hug, and I knew it was alright that I'd come to him. We stayed up until four in the morning talking about how different it felt to be one of "them" again. To be a human after being a mutant was so different from the first time around. Nick told me about going to see his father in hospice where he was being cared for with metastatic skin cancer. He had tears in his eyes when he told me his father said, "I'm proud of you."

I told him about Bobby, and how I just couldn't make it work. He smiled at me and shook his head.

"You're eighteen, girl," he said sagely. "There is no crime in trying new things at eighteen. To tie yourself to one man before you've seen anything of the world is just plain dumb."

It was good to hear my fears alleviated by someone else. I was afraid Nick would agree with my conscience and tell me I should have just stayed with Bobby. I'd gotten the cure for that reason! Was I such a fickle, selfish thing that I would drop the boy who said he loved me as soon as I could touch anyone I wanted? This is a thought that has plagued me throughout the last three years.

I didn't let this inner debate bother me during the day. There was way too much to do! I had to get a job, so that I could pay Nick rent. The cash I had from our allowance at the mansion would only last a few weeks. Besides, he told me in the long run it would be better for me if I learned how to work for my survival rather than have it handed to me on a silver platter. I grumbled about it the first day, but I grew to like the grown-up feeling I got from paying for half the groceries and the rent.

Being a country girl, it had been tough to get used to living in the mansion. A few jaunts in New York City and I felt like I could get used to it. But those day trips in no way prepared me to live in a real city like Detroit. My first day out job hunting with Nick, I left my bag on the table while I went to the washroom. He just laughed at me when I complained about losing my things.

But I adapted; I had to. Nick gave me a few leads as to where the jobs were, and I had to follow those leads on my own. He showed me around the first day and gave me a few maps, then set me on my way.

I must have left my number with thirty or forty restaurants and retail outlets in downtown Detroit by the end of the first week! Every moment of my day was filled with the job search. Just as I began to wear out, a cute boutique on the bad end of downtown called me up for an interview. Nick walked me to the bus stop and warned me about the poor reputation of the area. But I was confident enough in my skills fighting without my power to turn down his offer as an escort.

The interview went really well, and the manager told me it was almost a sure thing. She said my accent was cute and different, so people would like to buy things from me. I didn't really get it, but if it got me the job I would gladly ham up my Southern roots as much as I could.

A crowd had gathered in the road by the time I left the store. I could see white signs, but I couldn't read what any of them said.

I was getting used to the hustle of a crowd, so I just pushed through on my way to the closest bus stop I knew. Someone shoved me back as I was trying to get out of the crowd.

"Fuck the mutie freaks!" I heard someone yell behind me.

That's when I turned to look at the signs a little more closely. 'Mutant Registration NOW,' 'Evolution Is A Myth,' and 'Man: A Special Creation*' were spread throughout the masses. Dread shot through me at the sight. I completely forgot that I had taken the cure and could no longer be considered their enemy.

I fought like hell to get out of the anti-mutant mob and away. Two men noticed my terror and caught on. As I ran, I heard them behind me yelling taunts "Run from us, mutie!" and "That's right, mutant freak! You have no place in our city! Get the fuck out!" followed me down the alleys and side streets I tore through.

I ran faster than I ever have before and when I knew they couldn't see me, I jumped in the first hiding place I could find: a dumpster. At the time I was too terrified to think about the fact that I was sitting in someone's trash. The smell didn't even bother me. I just stared out the thin crack in the side at the two humans as they ran by, mocking me.

I stayed in the dumpster for what felt like days. I waited until I couldn't hear the rumbling and shouting of the mob from a distance. When I finally climbed out, it was dark and the crowd had dispersed.

Nick was pacing when I stumbled in the front door, covered in grime. He grabbed my arms and shook me, yelling how worried he had been.

It only took a minute to explain what had happened, and the anger seemed to leak right out of him. He just pulled me into a hug and held me. He knew what I was going to do.

I couldn't stay in Detroit for another week. Just as my life was starting to look up—I had nearly gotten that job, and I had a nice place to stay with a friend—I got caught in the mutant struggle once more. So I decided to do what seemed to work the last few times.

I left.

**

* * *

*does anyone recognize the creation-evolution theme to this protest? I just thought I would throw that out there... So you know the drill. Please review. If you don't, my brain shrivels up and no more chapters come out. Thanks, lovelies! -Flo**


	4. Chapter Three

Minnesota was beautiful at the beginning of autumn. The first place I stopped hitching was a tiny bike repair shop on the outskirts of a small town. A battered pink mountain bike in the window reminded me of warm, Southern summer nights riding down the gravel road to the river for a swim. On impulse, I spent two hundred of my last few hundred dollars on the bicycle.

The bike got me into town, where I began to network immediately with the two restaurants and three thrift stores. My big break came in this insignificant grill, the Boneyard Bar & Grill*, about two days after I arrived. The oldest waitress had just broken her leg and given her two weeks notice, and the managers were looking for a replacement. I agreed to come back the following afternoon for a trial shift, and left with the hope of some sort of income.

I am embarrassed to admit that I did live under a tarp for the first week in Wrenshall*. Luckily, the autumn was uncommonly warm and dry, so I only had to deal with a cold rainy night once. Every night that week I cried myself to sleep, drifting off with the feeling of Bobby's sweaty palms on my waist. I never thought I would miss the uncomfortable grip of his fingers, but I did.

I have come to understand that during this time, I missed the feeling of belonging somewhere, of having someone care that you are in their arms and their life more than I missed being in Bobby's arms specifically. But I also know I dreamed about my mutant family every single night since I left the mansion. I decided on the ride from Detroit to call myself Marie Logan, and used that name for all three years.

It was easy to fall into a routine in Wrenshall (population 308). I worked five days during the week and spent my days off exploring the surrounding area on my new bicycle. When the wind was whipping my cheeks I could pretend the tears were from the cold. On my first day off, I nearly ran over a group of men hiking around Otter Creek. Afraid of being caught in the wilderness with dangerous mutant-haters, I just smiled in apology and started off again.

But one of them held up a plastic bag of trail mix and called out "You look hungry!" It was true. I hadn't eaten since the night before, when my manager gave me the leftovers from the daily special. The loud growl of my stomach reached the group of five and laughing, they all opened their small packs to bring out a veritable feast of trail snacks.

I sat down with them, tense and uncomfortable. But after an hour and a half, I was laughing as loud as any of them at the jokes and silly stories they told to amuse each other. The hours wore on and soon it was too dark to see without a flashlight. We walked back to the small gravel parking lot together, one of them gallantly wheeling my bike along for me. Sam, Keegan, Jake, Teddy and Hans invited me to rock climb with them the following afternoon, and I found myself agreeing despite the warning bells in my head.

Luckily, the lights on the main roads allowed me to bike my way safely back to the tiny hole-in-the-wall apartment I agreed to rent from a coworker. As I fell asleep, I found myself kissing Teddy—the boy who had carried my bike back for me—instead of Bobby. I woke the next morning feeling utterly guilty.

However this guilt did not stop me from accepting Teddy's help that afternoon. He put my harness on me and explained the basics of climbing. I was put to shame by the difference in levels of skill between the boys and myself but I had so much fun I didn't even care! The exercise high put me in such a daze that I agreed to a lunch date with Teddy as Jake drove us both home at the end of the day.

It was the second time any man had shown interest in me since I was sixteen, and I'll admit I fell hard and fast. After the first date, we were practically inseparable. Teddy had dinner every other day at the grill, usually with Jake or Hans. Every weekend and on the odd day off, we went hiking, climbing, biking. I even tried to ski!

Two weeks into our relationship, and Teddy was ready to move past the passionate kisses on Jake's spare mattress and my pullout sofa. Afraid that he would get tired of me if I didn't, I told him I wanted to as well. I dreaded the act. I had nightmares about being frigid, uncomfortable and in pain during every sexual encounter for the rest of my life.

To my surprise, there was no pain! It was a little uncomfortable at first: I was still self-conscious about my body and my skills in bed. Not to mention that I had only been with one person before. Once. But Teddy was the ultimate laid-back, self-assured soul. He spent every night for the next two and a half weeks tending only to my fears. He taught me to enjoy sex, to enjoy living within my skin.

So when—about four weeks later—Hans filled me in on their plan to move to Colorado to join a commune, I jumped at the chance. I would have followed Teddy anywhere at that point. I quit my comfortable job without a thought. But I had the good sense to set aside most of the money I had made over the previous two months.

We sold all of our furniture and useless household items to buy an old VW bus. The only things we brought were the clothes on our backs, and several of us brought bicycles. I couldn't bear to leave the pink bike behind in Wrenshall even though it reminded me so much of the past that I was fighting to forget.

The morning we left I had an epiphany. For the first time since I had gotten the cure, I wasn't running away from something. I was running towards something, and I had nine people running with me.

**

* * *

**

***these places exist, and no I have never been there. They just looked so tiny and cute in pictures! If you have been there or you live in Wrenshall and you're reading this, hi. I like your town. -Flo**

**PS: give me your reviews if we be friends! And Flo shall continue to write this story.**


	5. Chapter Four

**cheerpandagal: as my only reviewer for the last chapter, I dedicate this one to you.**  
**ShatteredAndLostInHerOwnWorld, Chellerbelle, Comic-cake, and NyahLi1: don't think I forgot about you guys! You are lovely individuals! Thanks for letting me know what you thought about the first chapters!**

**In other news, I've listened to 'O Death' 77 times in the past two days to get myself in the mood to write this chapter and the next so...look out. It's a little depressing.**  
**And review. Or you'll never find out what happens next! -Flo**

* * *

Looking back, my relationship with Teddy was not quite as healthy as I thought it was at the time. He changed me. In Minnesota, I spent all my days with him outdoors and all my nights with him alone in my apartment. I grew to love biking and climbing, and I learned to love my skin. But in Colorado, we spent our days working at the community farm and our nights experimenting with drugs.

Keegan's girlfriend, Angelique, had an older brother living in the commune. He invited us to stay, and provided all the drugs we used. A lot of my time in Colorado is fuzzy and difficult to remember clearly. Heck, I don't even remember the name of the community we lived with!

I learned a lot about growing things during the five weeks I worked on the farm. Every day we woke with the sun and spent hours weeding, watering and pruning crops. It was hard work, softened only by the haze of marijuana.

About one week after we arrived, Angelique let us know about an anti-war protest that was planned for the following weekend. Keegan, Teddy and Hans were immediately fired up to participate. They insisted on bringing up mutant rights at the event. Sam was the next to jump onto the idea: his cause was sustainable community agriculture. Jake was like me—he just followed what the others did, assuming he'd find his cause in time.

I did not realize until after I'd begun dating Teddy that the group I had chosen to align myself with were radical liberal activists. We had discussions about every political problem from ignorance about global extreming to the mutant registration act. I was always careful to remain aloof from every debate, fearing that my opinions would out me as a former mutant. Even though I knew their position was pro-mutant, I still remembered every time I had been jeered at in public because of my genetic makeup.

But in Colorado everything changed. For six days Teddy asked me numerous times why I seemed to have no opinion. He pestered me for hours on end about how I kept my mouth shut, how I let everyone talk over me. I finally agreed to go to the protest after a long night of persuasion, but I still refused to speak my mind.

One protest led to another and soon we were outside all of the clinics that had been giving out the cure. Although it had become illegal to provide the cure, the community was enraged that something not approved by the FDA had been given to a minority population with the promise of "fixing" their problems. When the cause was presented by Keegan, Teddy and Hans, a veritable flood of mutant rights advocates came out of nowhere to join.

I felt myself drowning in the cause that I had been trying so hard to run from. The only way I kept my head above water was by taking as many drugs as I could. I ignored the part of me that was weeping every time I took the joint from Teddy. I never thought I'd be that girl—the girl that let her boyfriend turn her into something completely wrong.

But I didn't realize it until the last day I saw him.

We were lazing in the shag room, with the big fuzzy carpet and the lava lamp, when Angelique brought up the last clinic we picketed outside. She was mouthing off on a mutant doctor we saw inside, and I couldn't hold it in anymore.

"There were reasons for people to get the cure, you know." I kept my eyes on Teddy while I spoke. He looked interested—the only good thing about this group was that they always listened when someone brought up a different view. And this was the first time I was making my view known. "I met a guy who gave all his friends and family cancer just by being around them. His dad's the only one alive."

"Please," Angelique rolled her eyes. "It's not like every mutant that got the cure did it to save everyone around them. And that doctor was going against his entire race by giving out that poison!"

"Maybe they didn't get it to save everyone else, but you have no idea what it's like to hurt every day because of something you can't control!" I finally let go and yelled at her. I could see Jake and Hans exchanging apprehensive looks out of the corner of my eye.

"Oh, like you do?"

I hesitated. Even furious and high, I knew it would be a bad idea to go down this path. But I couldn't stop myself once I started.

"I did."

"What?" Teddy dropped his bowl, and Sam scrambled to pat out the fire that threatened to start.

"I took the cure, alright?" I had never planned on bringing this up again, but I let it all out. I couldn't stop talking once I'd started. When I ran out of juice, I found myself looking desperately at Teddy. I hoped maybe he'd understand.

"So you chose to give up your real self to become what society sees as normal?" Angelique had her perfect response to my tirade.

"I gave up sucking people's lives away from them! I wanted to be able to connect with people!" I felt my excuses slipping away from me. I was just a shallow girl trying to win back my boyfriend from a cute comrade. Teddy's shocked, disappointed look was leaching all the strength I had left.

"So you gave up your life just to be able to touch people?" his voice was so accusing. I couldn't say anything. He was saying everything that I was afraid was true. "You're really not who I thought you were."

"Mutant traitor."

Even though Jake looked at Angelique in shock at the blunt words, no one tried to dispute them. Those words brought back a little of the old Rogue and, well, I had a few things to say.

"What the hell do you know?" I was on my feet, pacing, and I didn't remember standing. "Wake up every morning knowing more than half this country—no, half the world!—hates you and wishes you were dead just because the way you were made. Wear gloves and long sleeves even in the summertime just so's you don't accidentally brush against someone and kill them! You don't know shit about being a mutant so maybe you shouldn't pass judgment on those of us that felt like we had no other choice but the cure!"

Jake was the only one who would look into my eyes after my tirade. Teddy had actually turned around some time while I was speaking and appeared to be ignoring me. And I knew what it meant.

"Fuck all y'all. Sitting here like you're some kind of goddamned judge and jury. You live here in your own little world all your lives, making up your Utopia and preaching about ending hate and violence. But you're the worst of them all. At least _they_ don't pretend to be something they're not."

When I left this time, I had no idea where I was going. I didn't cry walking away from the first group of strangers who had wholly taken me in since Xavier's. Maybe I loved Teddy and maybe I didn't. But marching down the long dirt road leading away from the commune I felt completely empty inside.


	6. Chapter Five

Getting to Washington was easy. After all of the hitching I had done, twenty-one hours was a breeze. I stopped when I found a decent motorcycle repair shop. The moment my eyes found the large warehouse off the side of the freeway filled with stocky, jeans-clad older men I couldn't help telling my ride to drop me off. The gruff owner just laughed when I asked him for a job, but the laughter ceased when I took apart and reassembled an engine in less than a minute.

It was comforting to spend my days covered in grease, up to my elbows in metal parts. I cut myself off completely from human interaction and spoke only to others when it was absolutely necessary. When I wasn't working on bikes, I lived in an alley behind the warehouse with two other homeless women.

Every night I found myself dreaming about Bobby. But it wasn't the one time we had together that I remembered: it was everything I had done with Teddy. I forced my waking thoughts away from him but I couldn't stop myself from dreaming. Finally, after three nights of continuous rain and unrelenting misery, I broke into the warehouse and stole the oldest bike I found.

I rode through the night and into the next morning, stopping only to squat in the woods like some kind of dog. I followed the first southbound highway I could until I noticed the front tire on my motorcycle was flat. I left the broken down old machine on the side of route I-5 and continued on foot.

It took me the rest of the day to get into some sort of city. I didn't know I had found Los Angeles until the following evening. I had no clothes other than what I was wearing and only a few hundred dollars I had made fixing bikes in Seattle. I hadn't showered in about a week, and the last thing I had eaten came out of a trashcan. And yet, when I walked by this pricey-looking bar, the Cha Cha Lounge, a handsome young man caught my arm and called me beautiful. I'm pretty sure he was three sheets to the wind at that point, but who was I to pass up a compliment?

I went home with the drunk man, hoping that if I tired myself out with sex I wouldn't dream. Although I found tears dripping down my cheeks as I curled up into a ball and fell asleep, it worked. I didn't dream about Bobby or Teddy. I woke when the sun peeked through his blinds after dawn. I thank God that he was still passed out from all that he'd drunk the night before while I picked up my jeans and hoodie off of his floor.

When I pulled my bra from under his bed, a slim leather wallet came with it, attached by the hooks of the bra. A year ago I wouldn't have even considered it, but by this time I had gotten used to doing what I had to in order to survive. I took the hundred and fifty dollars he had in his wallet, along with a gift card I found for a restaurant I'd never heard of.

The money went towards a disgusting motel room, which seemed like heaven to me after the past week on the street. I knew I didn't want to stay long wherever I was, but I figured I would try it out for a night or two.

"Trying it out" turned into another meaningless hookup with some attractive young lawyer looking to make his fortune in the City of Angels. I met him at the restaurant (a classy bar on the other side of town from my motel) on my third night in town. He was sweet and eager to please the beautiful, jaded girl he saw from across the bar. He told me his name but I don't even remember the first letter of it. This man was actually cognizant enough to make me feel something during the act of sex despite the two drinks I had downed right before I agreed to leave the bar with him, and I slept like a baby for the second night since Colorado.

I snuck out of his fancy condo at one in the afternoon, and used twenty of my remaining two hundred dollars to take a cab back to my motel room. The emptiness in my chest was starting to grow, reaching into my stomach, my fingers, my toes. I caught sight of my face in the mirror before I left and saw the emptiness in my eyes.

There was nothing left for me to do but go.

**

* * *

Are you crying yet? No? Just wait...there's more. Unless I don't get any reviews. Then THE END. -Flo**


	7. Chapter Six

Arizona was beautiful in January: the climate was warm and sunny. It couldn't have been more miserable for me. I wanted it to rain. I wanted it to snow, to hail on me until I bled. I'd gone from being completely untouchable to some sort of scarlet woman who sleeps with anyone she can gain something from.

I had not once thought of Teddy since I crept out of that drunk man's house two weeks before. And I had been utterly infatuated by him. I had left the one boy who I thought I loved, and the one who told me he loved me back. If I could leave these people behind, then what was I? Was I even human anymore? Perhaps the part of me that was made of other people was actually my conscience.

Could the cure have taken my humanity?

I couldn't stop these thoughts from running through my mind while I made my way through several states. When I reached Phoenix, I had no more energy left to travel. I sat on a curb in front of a gym and put my head in my hands.

A small shard of glass clinked under my heel. I picked it up, feeling so detached from my body as my hand lifted it in front of my face. It would be so easy to just push that little piece of glass into my wrist and feel my empty future leech away. I didn't realize I was crying until I tasted salt.

For two days I sat, sometimes resting my head between my knees and sometimes staring straight ahead at the few people that crossed in front of me. But the tears kept running down my cheeks through night and day. I hadn't eaten or drank anything for days, and it was starting to wear away at my body. I knew I was becoming dehydrated—my tongue was cracked and dry, my eyes burned, my head ached—but I didn't care anymore.

I wished I could go back. I saw the exact moment I would change: I stood at the entrance to the mansion, with Logan's words echoing in my head. And I left.

"If you had done it differently, where would you be today?" a voice from behind me was a shock, but I didn't move. I just blinked slowly, picturing myself standing on the lawns of the mansion with my family around me. "And you would still be wearing gloves, afraid to get too close to any one of them."

Finally, I looked up. He was a nondescript character: looked like any other old man you might see on the street. But his brown eyes burned with the knowledge of my sadness.

"Yes, I am an empath." It was never a question in my mind, more of a surety, but he confirmed it aloud anyway. "I felt your pain from Scottsdale. You're very troubled about your decision."

"Troubled…" my voice sounded like I was speaking with sand in my throat. "Is not the word I would use."

He smiled as he eased himself down beside me.

"Perhaps if you tell the story out loud, to a sympathetic ear, it will help." He already knew everything. It was running through my head nonstop. But he wanted me to acknowledge it, to go through it again.

It was as if I was waiting for someone to ask. I poured my story out to him, tripping over the words in my haste to get it all out at once. At first I was clinical, speaking as if it were someone else's life. Then I was afraid, fearing the judgment from an old man about my sexual exploits. When he did nothing but nod his head encouragingly, I was remorseful. I thought I had cried all the tears there were in my body, but I hadn't. When I finished, I was sobbing silently.

"You want me to justify your decision to take the cure," he finally spoke. "I cannot. You want me to validate your reasoning for sleeping with those men. I cannot. And you want me to give you something to live for. I cannot."

I flinched at each of his observations. He was right. I wished he could give me some reason to continue. But most of all, I wanted him to forgive me.

"And there it is." He gently lifted my chin so that he could look me in the eye once more. "Forgiveness. The root of it all, and the one thing you wish to have from me that is not really mine to give. What you truly want is forgiveness from your family."

"I betrayed them." Saying it out loud made it sound overdramatic and childish. But it was true.

"If you feel that way, then it must be true," his eyes were expectant. Apparently he thought I could do better than that. "You have nothing to be ashamed about. I understand how you feel about your decisions and why you made them. And I am telling you that you have nothing to fear. You have already been forgiven."

* * *

**I love this guy. Really, it made me happy to create him. Please give him some love! (review) And thank all y'all for everything you've said so far! I really appreciate hearing your opinions (good-so far-and any bad that may come) -Flo**


	8. Interlude

CRUNCH.

Logan pulled his fist back from the wall, clenching his jaw in a grimace that displayed his displeasure with both the blood covering his hand and the last bit of Rogue's chronicle. Her shoulders were hunched, shaking, and he couldn't see her face but he could still feel the tears lodged in her throat.

"Oh Marie," Ororo ignored Logan's physical outburst. She sunk to her knees beside the sobbing young woman and pulled her into a hug. "I cannot tell you how much it pains me to hear how you have suffered."

She pulled back to look into Rogue's slightly reddened eyes.

"I understand what you had to do to survive. I know that you are not a loose woman, and you are not bad to have kept your true identity from that…boy." The weather witch huffed. What she would give to meet that young man and his friends. She got the feeling Logan was on the same wavelength, by the look of that hole in her wall.

"I slept with that man just so that I could steal his money," Rogue interrupted Storm's thoughts in that same deadened voice she had been using since she got to Minnesota in her tale.

"Did you know that I used to pick pockets to survive?" Ororo used her best no-nonsense tone to shock Rogue out of her crying stupor. "I lived on the streets for several years with only my skills as a thief to keep me alive. Do you believe that I am a bad person because I lived off of someone else's wealth?"

"No! Of course not!"

"Well then, why will you not give yourself the benefit of the doubt? If I am not bad because I was a thief, then why are you?"

"I got the cure just so I wouldn't die a virgin," Rogue finally said, shame evident in her voice even as she bent to put her head in her hands. Muffled though her next words were, it was easy to hear how much she was fighting to get the out. "I did it for some _boy_."

"You never betrayed us, Marie!" Ororo was feeling a little frustrated. She had no idea how to get through to the poor girl. The younger woman had gone through so much in the past three years it was difficult to determine what to say to ease her troubles. "Everyone here was worried about you while you were gone. We didn't feel like you let us down! We just thought it was awful that you felt taking the cure was your only choice."

Logan rolled his eyes. The woman was just making it worse. Rogue was obviously taking the reassuring words as more problems she had caused for everyone. He cracked his knuckles and gently moved her aside before she could do any more damage.

He grabbed the young Southern woman by her shoulders—probably rougher than he meant to—and waited for her to look at him.

"Marie," he spoke her name when she didn't look up. "Rogue."

She blinked a few times and finally met his eyes.

"I am proud of everything you have done," he told her seriously, watching as tears filled her already watery eyes. He cleared his throat, feeling a lump rise. "You could never betray my trust."

Ororo felt herself smile as she watched the gruff loner fall to pieces trying to comfort the small young woman. But it worked: she was clinging to his arms and grinning through her tears while he muttered for her to stop crying. It took a few minutes for her tears to cease, so that she could go on telling her story.

When she felt ready enough to continue—clutching a handful of tissues—Rogue started to speak once more.

"That old man reminded me that I hadn't been myself for months. He told me that I had nothing to be afraid of—that I'd been forgiven. But I knew I hadn't been forgiven by everyone close to me that I'd wronged. So I decided to go back to the very beginning of my mutation…"

**

* * *

I love love love love loooove Logan and Rogue interactions! They give me the warm fuzzies. Please tell me if this was stilted and uncomfortable. Or...I don't know. Tell me how you feel about it! And thank you everyone who has let me know how they feel. You guys are the best!**

**To a certain reviewer, fatima: Thank you thank you! You really made my day! -Flo**


	9. Chapter Seven

That old man reminded me that I hadn't been myself for months. He told me that I had nothing to be afraid of—that I'd been forgiven. But I knew I hadn't been forgiven by everyone close to me that I'd wronged. So I decided to go back to the very beginning of my mutation…Mississippi.

I'd gotten a letter my second year at the mansion informing me that my parents had moved and that I was not to return to our house in Meridian. Bobby was concerned, holding my gloved hand and asking me if I wanted to talk about it. I brushed him off so that I could cry alone in the girls' bathroom.

So no, I wasn't going to visit my parents. I was going to the hospital to visit a comatose patient named Cody.

It took me about two days to get to my old hometown, hitching in an empty Florida orange juice truck. For the first time since I left Detroit, I opened up and talked to the driver. He told me about his teenaged daughter and described his motorcycle down to the type of bolt he used to attach the wheels.

There was only one place she knew he would be after so many years: the Specialty Hospital of Meridian*. It was early afternoon on the third day since Phoenix when I waved goodbye to the orange juice trucker. He gave me a thumbs up out the window and I had to smile, despite the dread in the pit of my stomach.

What if Cody had died? Would it be my fault, or maybe a medical mistake? Would I ever be able to forgive myself if my first boyfriend died because of me and I never knew?

I shook those thoughts out of my head. If I let my mind keep going in that direction, I would never work up the courage to go inside. Somehow I managed to get myself into the bright, cheerful lobby. The receptionist smiled amiably when I approached the desk. She was talking on the phone, but waved her hand at me to wait.

"May I put you on hold, sir?" she raised her black eyebrows at me, pulling the phone away from her ear. "What can I help you with?"

"I'm visiting a patient," I cleared my throat. "Cody Robbins."

The corners of her lips twitched downwards.

"I see," she reached under the desk and came up with a clipboard. "Please write your name, the date and your relation to the patient."

As I filled out the line with the name Marie Logan, she made me a "VISITOR" nametag. I peeled off the sticker and placed it on my chest, following her directions towards the elevators. The neurological floor was on the lower level, and I am willing to bet that Cody was the patient they'd had for the longest.

I stood outside his room for twenty minutes, my heart racing, until a nurse came by to do rounds. She held the door open for me when she left, and I had no choice but to go in.

The walls were bright white, with two huge windows facing the Eastern parking lot. These windows were ground floor, so the curtains were pulled to keep passersby from looking inside. Cody was a mannequin on the left side of the room, lying limp in his bed. His face was surprisingly serene, although his eyelids and under his eyes were purplish and his skin was so thin I could see the blue webbing of veins.

I wobbled as I took the ten steps from the door to the side of his bed. But then I was standing right there at his side, and I forgot about the weak and shaky feeling in my legs. Unconsciously, I reached out to brush a stray lock from his forehead, and his skin was cool and dry compared to my sweaty palms. I sank into the chair someone had set at the bedside—possibly for me, possibly for his family. I gently clasped the hand free of IVs in both of my hands.

It felt like I sat there for hours, my eyes glazing over. I had no idea what to do. Why had I come? He couldn't hear me. How was this fixing anything for either of us? What was I even supposed to say?

"Cody, I am so sorry." My voice broke, and I was crying, clutching his hand and resting my forehead against the bed beside him. I couldn't look at his calm, quiet face without feeling immense guilt. What his family must feel when they see their son lying like death in those pristine white sheets.

"Marie?" the familiar voice of Christine Robbins behind me. I turned in my seat and saw the Robbins matriarch in the doorway, holding a plastic bag in one hand and a vase with daisies in the other. "Marie! Oh my stars!"

She rushed into the room and tossed the vase and bag aside to pull me into a huge hug. And I was crying all over again. It was the first familial hug I'd had in so many years. Mrs. Robbins was one of the mothers in the town who'd taken me in whenever my parents went out of town. Maybe that's why I got so close to Cody.

"It's been five years, honey. Where have you been? We were all so worried about you!"

All I could say was "I'm sorry."

She took me home with her and fed me something I don't remember. I spent a lot of the day crying while poor Mrs. Robbins hugged me and asked what was wrong and where in Jesus' sweet name I'd been for the past five years. Finally, I managed to tell her that I'd run away the day Cody had his 'accident' and spent most of the time at a boarding school in New York.

Apparently my parents had never told anyone that I was the one that caused Cody's 'accident' because his mother just shook her head and held my head to her shoulder. She wouldn't let me continue when I told her I wanted to talk about what had happened in my house the day he'd gone into his coma. Her grief counselor had long ago guided her through the anger stage of healing. He advised her and her husband to look at the tragedy as a chance for spiritual growth. She forgave me whatever I believed I had done to cause Cody's coma, although she knew that nothing happened that the good Lord did not wish. He must have some plan for Cody that was unfathomable to us.

And something warm started to grow in the pit of my stomach. It was something I almost didn't recognize: a kind of elation. I had forgiveness. My worst victim of all—poor Cody—and his mother _forgave_ me.

I stayed for another day, to see Mr. Robbins and visit Cody once again. I had never planned on staying for more than a week. So with some old clothes I stole from the abandoned property that used to be my home, I stood over Cody and kissed his forehead, bare lips to his skin. My last goodbye to the first victim of my mutation.

**

* * *

Oh my goodness I am SO sorry it's taken me so long to update! I've been completely engrossed in various assignments and in my extremely draining clinical rotation. Please forgive me, lovelies! I will try try try to update again within a week! And...*this place does exist. From my research, it looks like it's only for acute care that extends past 20 days but oh well! Who knows if Cody needed acute care...after...five years...Please tell me what you think -Flo**


	10. Chapter Eight

**Sorry it's taken so damn long for me to update! Long story short, the Muse went buhbye as soon as i started classes. Of course, she chooses to return during my lovely week of two exams and giant paper in two days...Please enjoy! And review. Make sure she sticks around for long enough to finish this angsty tale. Hugs and kisses, Flo**

* * *

Boston was huge. I mean, I thought I was acclimating to the big cities in Detroit, but I had no idea. After getting lost for two hours on the T, I finally got off at the first place that looked minimally dangerous and plopped myself in the first bar I found. The bartender didn't even ask for my ID when I put a five dollar bill on the counter and stared at him blankly. He just poured me a glassful of something that was clear and set it in front of me.

"Do I know you?" I could barely believe someone had actually tried that line on me. My first day in this huge city and I was hit on by some unoriginal slob drinking in a bar at 11:00 in the morning. Then again, here I was, throwing back that awful, burning alcohol easily enough.

I just ignored the older man and rested my forehead against the sticky bar. I wanted to close my eyes and wake up in a comfortable bed with breakfast waiting for me. I longed to see someone I knew, to recognize a face.

"Yeah, I do know you!" his fingers were digging into my upper arm through my threadbare sweatshirt sleeve. He tugged at my arm once, and I was forced to turn back towards him. "I saw you on the news—what was it?—four, five years ago! You blew up that house out in Hyde Park!"

My heart skipped a beat: Hyde Park was where Bobby's parents lived.

I could still remember the rush of adrenaline the second before Bobby kissed me in his childhood bedroom. The exhilaration of his emotions running through my body and his energy pulsing through my veins. And I could still feel the sweat against my palm later, while I clutched John's ankle and desperately tried to calm the raging storm of fire that surged into my fingers.

Eyes watering against the heat of my memories, I blinked twice and realized that the man was still talking.

"—hell you were doing hanging around those angry mutant kids anyway. That one boy looked like he was ready to level the street," he grinned, revealing yellow teeth. "And you look like such a nice girl."

"Mark, quit bothering the poor thing," the strong Boston accent did nothing to mask the exhausted disapproval in the waitress's voice. "She looks like she could be your daughter, you old perv."

Grumbling to himself, the man turned back to his amber-colored drink and hunched his shoulders. I smiled hesitantly at the tall young woman holding the tray behind me.

"You alright, sweetheart? You look like you need to talk." She set her tray down and slid onto the barstool beside me. "I've got a break coming up and people tell me I'm a really good listener."

"I don't need to talk to anyone," I shook my head quickly. How did these people keep finding me? Was I a magnet for every kindhearted mutant out there? She did not react to my frustration and fear, so I was reasonably sure she was not another empath. Perhaps just another Good Samaritan.

"I'm Wendy," she held out her hand. "I'm from Arlington. I can tell by your accent you're not from Mass."

"Marie," I didn't want to go into where Caldecott County was, so I just said, "Mississippi."

"Mississippi, huh? Wicked. Like New Orleans?"

"No." She thought New Orleans was in Mississippi? What the hell did they teach in New England geography?

"Oh-Kay then," she stood up and started to pick up her tray again. "Want another drink, Mississippi?"

I just nodded, resting my forehead back on my hands. I knew I was being rude but I was just so tired of sharing my feelings with everyone. And the memories brought up by Mark's little ramble were becoming a growing tightness in my chest. I almost missed the clink of the glass beside my ear, I was so caught in the vision of being in the company of friends. I threw the second drink back as easily as the first, and relished in the burn of the cheap alcohol running down my throat.

"Look, you seem like you're really upset about something," Wendy tried again. "I know this is the first time you've met me, but I want to help. I'm a graduate psychology student at Tufts, and most of my work has been with depressed people. I have seen that look before."

"I am not depressed!" I did not really feel the offense that I heard in my voice. Her sympathetic look made me feel bad for being so rude. Why was I so willing to talk to that empath in Arizona, but I wouldn't say a word to some normal human in Massachusetts? I had more in common with her at that point than I had with him. "I'm just…lonely."

"Being so far from home?"

"Sort of." I sighed. "I ran away from home after high school and I don't know anyone here."

"You ran away?" she looked horrified. "I'm so sorry! Was it your parents? Oh, does that mean you don't have anywhere to stay?"

"Actually, yes," I was becoming confused by the direction the conversation was going.

"I know you probably want to punch me in the face because I'm making you talk about all this, but I might be able to help you. I live with my friends about four blocks down, and we're having a little bit of trouble keeping up with the rent. If you're interested, we're looking for a non-threatening subletter to stay on the couch for a few months. It's just a couch, but it's dirt cheap."

I was quiet for a few moments, weighing the pros and cons of the situation. A couch was a hell of a lot better than half the places I'd been staying in the past two years. And the price she named while I was thinking was definitely "dirt cheap" enough for my budget.

"Why are you doing all this?" I needed to know. I could probably defend myself if she was a psycho—with all that Danger Room training Scott had us doing—but I wanted to avoid a fight if I could.

"I told you," she rested her chin on one hand. "I have seen that look before, and it usually means the person wearing it is giving up. I don't like to see that."

She seemed sincere. I had no way of really knowing, but I kind of wanted to trust her. Isn't that what starting over meant? Making new friends?

"That sounds great," I finally said, allowing a real smile to light up my face. "Thank you."

Wendy told me to wait until she got off so that she could show me the apartment and around the neighborhood. I sat myself in an empty booth and rested my head on the table to take a nap while I waited. I trusted the threadbare material of my green hoodie to ward off any potential thieves.

Wendy babbled at me the entire slow walk back to her apartment at eleven when she got off work. Her wild red curls were starting to escape from her high ponytail. She was careful not to ask anymore questions about my past, chatting instead about her curriculum and her most recent research position.

Her roommates were just as sweet and quirky, I found out when we arrived at her place. Claire and Devon immediately took to me, despite my hesitation in speaking for the first half hour. They were baking oatmeal-cranberry-white chocolate chip cookies at eleven-thirty in the evening, and had an assortment of sushi laid out across the countertops as Wendy brought me inside.

It wasn't until Devon asked Wendy how she managed to find a subletter so soon that I chose to speak. She started to answer, and I interrupted with the first thing that sprang to mind.

"Well," I overexaggerated my accent. "I have always depended on the kindness of strangers."

They stared at me in silence for a few seconds while I laughed at my own little joke, then Devon grabbed me in a hug.

"You are _adorable_. We're keeping her."

It was easy to fall back into my old self around those three graduate students. Wendy, Devon and Claire weren't really the friendly faces that I had longed for, but they were really easy to get along with. And their couch was incredibly comfortable for the 200 per month I agreed to pay. Wendy even got me an interview at the bar to help pay rent! I knew enough about mixing drinks after three years living with Kitty and Jubilee spouting off various cocktails they were "just dying to try" to completely rock the interview.

Even though I cringed every time I saw a mop of spikey blonde hair in a crowd, I found that living in Boston was just what I had been looking for over the past two years.

* * *

**Three cheers for the Arlington accent! And for the not-so-subtle knock on New England edumacation. Love ya, you damn yanks!**


	11. Chapter Nine

"This is the last time I go running by myself."

Every building around me was completely unfamiliar. For the third time in a week, I had waved off Claire's offer to run with me so she could show me how to get back. And for the third time, I had gotten myself utterly lost.

"Well," I took a deep breath and began to jog in a different direction than before. "I'll find my way back eventually."

I took up running after my first day of work at the bar. Claire invited me on her weekly jog with two other T.A.s from her clinical psychology class. I accepted, mostly because she really seemed to be trying to include me in things. And it felt great! The first few times, my muscles burned and I could barely breathe. But, my lungs and muscles quickly adjusted to the exercise. Soon enough I was easily running meters ahead of Claire and her two friends.

My watch glowed up at me from my wrist, and I sighed. I only had an hour and a half until I had to be at the bar. I meandered up to the first street vendor I saw, and asked for directions back to the apartment complex. It only took me about twenty minutes to get back, and I tried to memorize the street names so I wouldn't get so lost if I ever ventured out on my own again.

Of course, I managed to talk myself out of running with a partner two days later. I did remember the route that I took the last time, and only had to stop and consider street signs once. About halfway through my run, the sounds of pounding feet overtook me. Ten camouflaged bodies sped past me as if I were walking.

"Hey." I just about swallowed my tongue when he spoke. "He" being the incredibly attractive young man wearing grey and camo.

"Hi?"

I have had men ask for my number before. But never attractive young men with the letters ROTC emblazoned across their chest. I wasn't really sure how to respond to it. Of course, once I figured out that yes, I would like to give my number to this hot brunette army boy, I remembered that the Xavier school number was not a viable option. I was forced to tell him that I couldn't remember my new apartment's number. Which he took as a brush-off and, smiling cheerfully, ran up ahead to rejoin his pack of muscular friends.

The next time he slowed to join me—three days later—I was prepared to give him the apartment's phone number. He didn't ask. He just jogged next to me, peppering me with inquiries about where I was from, where I went to high school, what university I was going to, where I worked. By the time he veered off Kneeland Street to follow his friends, I felt like I had undergone some sort of inquisition.

It wasn't until the fourth time we ran together that he asked me out. At that point, I knew his name—Seamus, where he was from—a little cranberry-picking town called Wareham by the cape, and all about his family and college career in ROTC. I practically stuttered out "S-s-sure. I mean I'd l-love to."

Our first date wasn't stellar. He took me out to a burger joint and I almost threw up I was so nervous. I could barely finish half of my food, and I know I didn't come off as witty and cool as I had imagined I would while getting ready. I hadn't been on a real date since Minnesota. And let's face it, Teddy was in shape but he was no army boy. Seamus was on a whole other level of attractive from every boy or man I had ever dated.

I was convinced he caught a glimpse of the innate personality flaw that has so far destroyed every semi-successful relationship I've had. I was so sure that after his awkward half-hug goodnight on our apartment building's broken-down front stoop, this was the last I would see of the gorgeous, dedicated Irish man.

I was very wrong.

The very next day, a familiar thumping stride caught up with me on my run. I could barely contain my wild grin at his nonchalant "We need to stop running into each other like this, Marie."

We met up almost every other day after that. I couldn't figure it out, but Seamus seemed to be fascinated by me. He told me it was "unbelievably cute" how I went from "shy and embarrassed to sassy and Southern" at the drop of a hat. I met his friends officially after our fourth date, and they all seemed really nice. Kind of goofy, and a few were quite obviously just muscle-heads. But, overall I liked them. Seamus told me they really liked me too.

It was three and a half weeks before we became "official" and fully "consummated" our relationship. It was a Wednesday, and he invited me over for a casual dinner. Watching him flip flatjacks, I realized it. I just couldn't stand another minute without going all the way with him. I practically attacked him right there in the kitchen!

That night was incredible. Bobby and I were so inexperienced; our one night was just awkward and uncomfortable. Teddy was extremely laid-back and patient; some days he had been content to just lay interconnected and talk about how it felt. And the two men I used in California were so drunk, they only managed to thrust frantically for a few minutes and pass out. But Seamus was so different: he had so much fun with sex! He laughed and joked the whole night, even while he completely blew my mind with things I had never even imagined.

Surprisingly, I felt different than I had with Teddy. After Teddy had begun to teach me about sex, I felt completely hooked on him. I felt like I had to be around him constantly, and I almost unconsciously changed my personality to better complement his. And there was a relentless level of guilt that was layered over everything I felt, because I was sure that I was a heartless tramp for deserting Bobby.

With Seamus, I felt so good about myself. I began to feel confident in my ability to make him as happy and content as he was making me. I did not have to be around him all the time, and when either one of us was busy for a few days and couldn't contact the other, I did not feel worried or betrayed.

And through Seamus, I met the most amazing person that crossed my path during these past three years. Through Seamus, I met Carol Danvers.

* * *

**Do you see where this is going? I do…maybe that's a good thing. Reviews make the world go round my dears! Big thank you to my one reviewer from the last chapter, Chellerbelle, who single-handedly kept my muse alive. -Flo**


	12. Chapter Ten

**Sorry it's taken so long to update! Things have gotten ridiculously busy preparing for real life. Please stick with me, lovelies. We're close to present day!**

**Now, I realize this isn't your usual representation of Ms. Marvel. But I'll ask you to appreciate her because the hilarious young lady she's based on is a good friend of mine. Please review and tell me how much you (dis)like my characterization! -Flo**

* * *

There is so much that I can say about Carol Danvers.

I had always seen myself as one of the guys until I met Carol. I was never really close with other women: I had this negative view of us as catty and vicious. Despite some superficial friendly relationships with female acquaintances like my roommates Claire and Wendy, I never let myself become intimate friends with other ladies. Carol showed me how it felt to trust women again, after the Cure.

She was one of Seamus's ROTC cadets, but she ran a different route so we had never crossed paths while jogging. She was out bowling with some of his other friends—on a date with his good friend Donnie—the first time I was introduced to her. I was a little bit intimidated by her much taller athletic build, and very blonde-and-blue-eyed appearance. But that changed the minute she spoke. I never got the chance to be quiet around her because the first words she ever said to me were: "Well, damn. If I had known there were two of us gals, I would have brought my double ended dildo."

All five of the boys and Seamus looked at me fearfully in the few seconds of silence that followed. His friends were obviously used to her bawdy humor, but none of them knew anything about me other than my name and my noticeably southern accent. They probably thought I was a prim Christian girl from one of the Carolinas. I was Christian alright, but I ain't been described as "prim" for years.

I couldn't stop myself from snorting loudly before I began to laugh uncontrollably. Carol's eyes glittered happily, and I plopped myself into the plastic seat beside her for the rest of the evening.

So, while Seamus and I got closer in our romantic relationship, Carol and I became nearly inseparable. If we didn't meet up or see each other in a group with the rest of Seamus's friends, we would call each other to check up. She was the first person that I told when I practically jumped Seamus in his own kitchen. She loved to hear the juicy details about our nights (afternoons, mornings, etc.) together, and she really relished describing her exploits to me in the same excruciating detail.

About two months to the day after I arrived in Boston, homeless and jobless, Wendy came into the living room of our apartment with a strange look on her face. Devon and Claire had been avoiding me: it was not obvious because I had been spending so much time outside the apartment, but I had a feeling. Seamus was on the couch with me, asleep with his arms and legs trapping me in the cradle of his body when Wendy sat down across from me. She looked really reluctant to say anything first, so I opened with: "Hey Wendy. How was the morning shift?"

"Oh, it was fine," she finally set down her apron and checkbook on the low table. "Tips weren't bad for a Tuesday morning. How was your night? Seamus keep you up late?"

"Nah, he was out like a light after eleven. But, Carol and I were on the phone until one-thirty," I laughed quietly, running my hands absently down Seamus's arm. "So, did you want to talk to me about something? Y'all seem really agitated today."

"Well, Marie," she shifted uncomfortably. "Here's the thing. Devon's dad just lost his job, and he's not going to be able to pay for Dev to stay here anymore. And Claire and I can't afford this place without him. We're talking about moving back home."

Whatever I was expecting, that was not it. Apparently I was homeless once more.

"I'm really sorry, Marie," she did seem very torn up about it. "I know you have nowhere else to go."

"Don't feel bad, sugar. I'm real grateful you took me in for two months like you did." I smiled the best I could while the cogs in my brain started turning. Where the hell was I going to go that was as dirt-cheap as this lumpy couch?

"You don't have to worry about anything for another two weeks," Wendy assured me. "But, we already talked to the landlady, and she doesn't know we have a subletter. So, when we start showing the place around…" she trailed off and I caught her drift. I had to be out in two weeks or else big trouble for all of us from the dragonlady.

Seamus must have felt my chest rising and falling more rapidly, or the quickening of my pulse or something because he began to wake up.

"What's going on?" he mumbled sleepily.

"I've got to find somewhere to live in two weeks," I told him, not sugar-coating it. I was worried, but I wasn't going to whine and gripe about it either.

Thankfully, he did not offer his place. If he had, I would have been out the door faster than you can say "Steel Magnolias." I was finally in a healthy relationship that seemed to help me grow and mature as well as allowed me to be as juvenile as I needed. But I had learned about getting too attached too fast. I was not going to have another Teddy on my hands: any hint of hard drugs or a hippy commune and I was out the damn door.

Then again, I could not imagine Carol tripping on acid while picking vegetables in the backyard of a huge rundown seventies mansion. I trusted her not to let me get caught up in any crazy right- or left-wing bullshit.

Which is why, when Seamus brought up my imminent homelessness at the next get together, and Carol and her roommate Meg said there was an extra room at their place for 350 a month, I didn't automatically say "No, thank you."

Carol and Meg turned out to be the perfect roommates! Kept their messes confined to their bedrooms, and even had a schedule up alternating weeks to clean the bathroom. I am no neat freak, but I do like to have some sort of order in my living space.

No longer was I calling Carol every day to tell her about my crazy customers at the bar, and the wild sexual advances I was making with Seamus. The advances she could occasionally hear through our shared bathroom wall, and the bar antics I told her every night when we made dinner or a late-night snack.

There was no dramatic reveal of my past as a mutant. In fact, I believe we were frying eggplant slices for a new eggplant parmesan recipe, when I just blurted it out. She didn't make a big fuss or scream and shout about it either. She just said, "Oh, me too." And laughed her ass off when I dropped the frying pan in the middle of flipping the slices over. We stayed up until two in the morning that night, and she told me about how a bullet bounced off of her chest when she was thirteen, walking home from school. She described flying to me in the most beautiful way; I found my heart aching for the feeling of the clouds brushing past my face. I told her about Cody, running away from home, and Xavier's. She cried with me when I told her about leaving my mutant family behind; her mother had died so long ago she barely remembered her, but her father had only been dead for a year. She knew how I felt because she was still working through the raw pain of losing him.

I knew not to expect any judgment from her about Teddy and the guys from California. She had stumbled in twice in the past three weeks I had been living with her, still smelling like stale cologne and alcohol. She was no angel, yet she understood my guilt at what I had done to my body. It seemed like everything was going well for me: Carol was my savior, and Seamus was the perfect man with whom to discover the intricacies of a healthy relationship.

From that night on, we were completely trusting of one another, and we told each other everything. So when Carol saw the program on the news about the cure, she brought it to me right away. We held each other's hands while we watched a young mutant with black hair and fiery red eyes dragged away towards a police cruiser in a strange silver collar, somewhere out West. She was sobbing obviously, eyes following a body bag that apparently held her brother who she was babysitting when the cure suddenly failed. His heart stopped as the massive electromagnetic waves that had been held in for the past two and a half years exploded from her body. The story was all over the news: the Supreme Court may get involved in determining how liable this young woman was for the death of her brother.

Every night for the next week, we were rooted to the couch watching the newest story of the cure's failure as multiple mutants came out every day that their powers were back with a vengeance. I had told Seamus a vague narrative about my history the day after my night talking with Carol, and he just shrugged it off. He knew about Carol, and one of his childhood friends was one too. He had no particular prejudice against mutants. But this news changed everything.

The cure wasn't failing for everyone, but there were numerous people coming forward every day. Would I be one of them? Was I still a mutant?


	13. Chapter Eleven

Three months of torturous waiting. Every day I was sure would be my last day of freedom from my powers. Outwardly, I functioned normally. Inside, I was wallowing in my misery. Carol took a more practical approach: train for the day when it may happen. She had me practicing workouts that made Logan's Danger Room exercises seem like a dream.

Seamus joined us every once in awhile for our physical conditioning, when he wasn't busy with classes or work. He stayed at our place every night, holding me close despite my protests. He woke with me when I cried myself awake, resting his hands against my bare skin and reassuring me that he had none of the same fears that I did. The promises we spoke into the darkness more than made up for the terror of anticipation.

I know the worst part of these three months were the dreams. Every time I closed my eyes, I was standing in the Mansion grounds or swimming in the pool. Once, I even dreamed about sitting through Advanced Physics class with the Professor. I think I bored myself awake that night.

The mere chance that I could still be a mutant brought back so many memories of my family that I started seeing them everywhere. I swore I caught a glimpse of white hair and dark skin one gloomy Thursday at the bar. I nearly jumped out of my skin and spent about twenty minutes searching the building for any hint of Storm. Another morning on my run with Carol, I tripped and skinned my hands and knees when a flash like fireworks burst in my peripheral vision.

I had a hell of a time explaining how the flash of a camera had reminded me of a friend from back home. It was disturbing how many times I swallowed a shriek those three months, seeing the past hovering right out of my line of sight.

Despite my nerves, for those three months, my skin was safe.

It was barely noticeable at first. Seamus called me "insatiable" a few nights in a row; Carol thought it was sickeningly adorable. If it had had been any faster, it would have been obvious. It was only after an hour of some pretty vanilla play that I realized my ridiculously in-shape man was breathing too heavy for his efforts.

It took everything in me not to freak out right then and there. I burst into tears and completely ruined the mood. Poor boy thought he'd done something wrong, and spent the rest of the night rubbing my back and saying he was sorry for whatever it was.

Carol knew as soon as she saw the tear tracks and the exhausted half-dressed man beside me.

She convinced me not to worry. It could have been a fluke. After all, even Casanova had an off-day. But I noticed her stepping up the training. There was a rushed sort of feeling to it – like we were trying to finish choreographing a dance in half the time we'd prepared for.

Seamus refused to be hands-off, blatantly ignoring my very convincing arguments against a physical relationship while my mutation was obviously re-developing. He was so blasé it made me furious. He had no idea what the dangers were, but he refused to trust my judgment. The issue became so frustrating over the next two months! He continued to sleep over every night –against my wishes. Sometimes our arguments got so heated I locked myself in the bathroom just to get away from it all.

I knew he was just trying to make things work. And I'm aware he knew that I was deliberately pushing him away for his own safety. He was just enough of a chauvinist to be offended by my attempts to protect him from me. And he told me this on numerous occasions. Every time I told him I wasn't in the mood or preferred to sleep alone.

Of course, all of his arguing didn't do him any good when he was utterly exhausted after a half hour of make-up sex. And on Thursday, September 21. Well that night just about won me my argument for good.

I never even considered saying "told you so" when his eyes fluttered open. He looked up at Carol and me in confusion from the bed. I was wrapped in his red flannel robe, tears visible on my cheeks. He grunted as he attempted to raise his hand from his stomach – perhaps in an effort to wipe away the tears – but he could barely lift it an inch before it dropped.

"What happened, Marie?" he blinked a few times and swallowed. "The last thing I remember…"

I can still feel the confusion and disorientation of his emotions in my own mind as I watched my stable, mature boyfriend lying helpless in bed. I ignored the weak call that followed me from the room as I padded to the bathroom. Carol would stay with him until he was well enough to leave.

My Cure was well and truly gone. Sure, it had taken about fifteen minutes to work, but Seamus' weakness and his voice in my head was the last straw. I wouldn't be spending the night in his arms any more. I didn't want to watch the time it took for him to pass out diminish from day to day. Call me crazy, but I'd rather mourn the loss of touch all at once.

Meg didn't even ask; it was obvious Carol had told her what was going on while I was in the shower. She brushed away some crumbs from the couch beside her and offered me a slice of stale pizza. We watched something mindless while my hair dripped dry, leaving a huge wet spot on the back of the old sofa. And when the silly crime show was over, she reached over and gave me a hug before going to bed.

I sat for forty minutes while the television in front of me played the same infomercial over and over again. I sat in silence while Seamus crept into the living room and lowered himself onto the seat carefully next to me. I could feel his eyes on me for ten of those minutes, silently appraising. Perhaps wondering what the right thing to say was.

"It's gone." I never let him speak. "It's done."

His deep sigh as I left the room was the last thing I heard from poor Seamus.

* * *

**We're almost there! Please stick with me, friends! It's been a little bit hectic around here... Only two more chapters (which have not yet been completed). So please please review! Perhaps you could tell me what you think should happen. Although I do have an outline, nothing is completely certain! **

**-Flo**


	14. Chapter Twelve

**Okay, so I just want to post all I have at this moment...enjoy! Warning! This chapter may be a teensy bit confusing. I'm trying my hand at (slight) stream of consciousness. Blame my love for Faulkner. -Flo**

* * *

It's only been two weeks since that day but…It's all jumbled up in my head. I had been in a daze for weeks. Ever since I walked away and locked my bedroom door on Seamus and whatever semblance of a relationship we had. Since I started screening my calls and changed my entire routine just to avoid running into him.

I woke up at seven-thirty just like usual on October 6. The thunder deterred me from my normal outdoors workout routine. The gym was really crowded, but I'd never had a problem getting a treadmill before. Something about looking the way I do makes the men fall all over themselves to give up their time for me.

Or…no. Wait.

I definitely remember running down Essex Street that day. It was still raining, but I hadn't heard thunder since I woke up. There was no one else running this particular route – no one to see my tears mingling with the rain. I ran until my shins burned and I could barely breathe. And when I got back there was a note from Meg asking me to pick up broccoli and a pint of Ben & Jerry's Phish Food ice cream.

I think I went to the grocery store after showering. I don't remember whether I showered at the gym or at home. The shower curtains sort of look the same; it's an easy enough mix-up.

It's a little bit fuzzy, but I'm pretty sure I spent about an hour browsing fruits and vegetables. Maybe I saw someone I knew? I don't usually take so long deciding on my produce.

Or maybe I went to visit Carol at work. I think I remember walking up that funky set of stairs in her building. That memory might have been a dream though. I thought I saw Jason wink at me from his desk, and I know Jason was still upset at me because he's one of Seamus' best friends. He hadn't spoken to me in days…

There are bits and pieces of the day that I'm sure of. I absolutely went to work. I remember bumping into Wendy on her way out as I was clocking in. She was really uncomfortable because she asked me about Seamus and I snapped at her. I shouldn't have done it, really. She was just trying to be nice. But it was a fresh wound that she was poking at, and I can't exactly be held responsible for my sass. What with all the other emotional baggage I had piled on me.

My grumpy attitude spilled over into my work that night.

It was two-forty in the morning when I left the bar. I had been waiting inside for my usual escort (Carol) to arrive. After about twenty minutes, I decided she must have gotten caught up with something at home or at work and set out on my own. The streets were strangely free of the drunken college students that normally stumbled about after last call on a Friday. It was disconcerting for my closing shift walk home to be so quiet.

There was a strange noise in the alley behind Starbucks. Cautious footsteps? No, that's not mine. I heard grunting and some muffled speech.

"Oh my God."

It's dark and the ground is still wet from all the rain earlier. I don't know if the wet on my face was rain or blood or tears. Ripping pain between my legs has my mouth open in what must be a silent shriek because I can't hear anything.

I'm choking! Something thick and cold is wrapped around my neck like a vice. I can't even get to it because my hands are so heavy. Why are they so heavy? Kicking my feet does nothing. Their gritty hands are grasping my ankles and I can't move. All of the strength in the world and I can't even move.

But I wasn't on the ground!

They were all over her – me. He's on top of me! Torn leather jacket and rough denim pants rubbing against my legs and arms. I can't even tell how many there are…

There were ten. I know there were ten. I saw them standing over her with baseball bats and chains. Her eyes were open and glazed. I wonder if she could see me frozen like a statue, right there. I know they didn't see me.

This one's almost done. I have no idea how many of them have gone but I can feel his hot breath on my chest getting more and more ragged. I can't feel anything below my hips anymore. They don't even need to bother holding my legs; I couldn't move them if I tried. But my head…my head is going to explode.

There was blood everywhere! At first I didn't see it, but when my eyes adjusted I noticed it all over. And I couldn't hold it in any longer. My first scream brought all eyes on me. Three of them shifted, swinging a bat and a length of chain around threateningly. I can't imagine they were too intimidated by another girl after they'd beaten the last one. But there's a siren somewhere and they look concerned.

He stopped. The heavy weight against my body is lifting, and I feel like I can float up and away. But that loud noise is back. It's ricocheting through my pounding head and wreaking havoc on my ears. The dark blanket over my eyes is flashing little lights like windows in the distance. Footsteps pounding away on the wet road.

Her skin was cold as ice. It felt like Bobby beneath my bare fingers. Bobby after we'd kissed. His pulse fluttering slower and slower against my fingertips. But it wasn't Bobby. It was Carol. I knew I was screaming because my ears buzzed with the hurt of it. But I could still hear what sounded like her voice. I was confused and exhausted. I didn't really understand what was happening.

So very tired…

And no one came to help us. No one came, and I was shrieking up a storm. I was sure of it! Not even one of my coworkers or a passersby or a person living in the townhouses down the street. It was not such a terrible area; we'd walked this way so often in the past five months at all hours of the night. And nobody ever bothered us before. I don't understand how it happened.

Chains could never hold me…her. What happened? How did they get the drop on her? She could take down eight of her classmates at once in the gym. I just don't get it. And _why_? Did they know she was a mutant? Did she pick a fight with some hecklers? Or did they just jump her from the alley as she was passing by.

I'm not an idiot. I know not to walk down a darkened alley by myself. Even with strength and invincibility, somebody could still hit me from behind. I mean, even Superman had his Kryptonite.

But I didn't go down there alone for no reason. And she was dead. I knew it as soon as I let go of her. I wasn't supposed to be touching anybody; I remembered at the last second that my hands were bare. I'd dropped a cup of ketchup on my hand at about midnight and spoiled my gloves. I'm pretty sure right here was when the pain and the agony started.

Everything is all jumbled together, but I remember the feeling of their hands all over me. I remember that I wanted to throw up but something was clenching my neck. And they hurt me so bad. I don't know the last time I felt it when someone hit me with their fists. But as I was walking, there was this strange sensation of cold metal on my neck and then blows raining down on me.

I can't believe I left her there. I just left her body. I don't know who found her! And who told Meg and Seamus…

I don't even remember where I went at first. I felt the wind on my face and it was so cold. There was moisture in the grass when I first remember opening my eyes. I didn't recognize any of my surroundings: a huge field of icy cold grass. It looked nothing like Boston or the surrounding areas. I had no idea what day it was or how I'd gotten to that place. It was just after daybreak, and the sky was as warm and purple as the dew was cold beneath me.

I walked for hours through the woods before I found some sort of civilization: a little old lady named Betsy living in the middle of the New Hampshire wilderness. She took me in for the night and showed me where and when I was. How I managed to get one hundred and sixty miles in five days on only my own two feet, I have no idea. But I am pretty sure Betsy thought I was some sort of hiker who got lost on my way down the Appalachian Trail. She was enough of a sweetheart to give me a ride to the closest bus station and buy me a ticket to Pleasantville.

I was so messed up. I still am, I know. I've been all confused and sometimes I have flashbacks that I know aren't mine. But I wasn't - heck, I'm still not - sure whose they are. I don't know if people's memories are coming back from before the Cure, or if I touched some people I never knew about.

Even through all the confusion and disorientation, I knew I had to get somewhere safe before I absorbed anybody else.

And that's why I came back.


	15. Epilogue

**This is it, everyone! If I make an update on this storyline, it will be in a one-shot or new story. Cured is finished! Finally, I have completed a true multi-chapter fic! Hoorah! Celebrate with me by reviewing! Tell me how you feel about this ending, let me know if you have any ideas for future plotlines... Regardless, please enjoy! -Flo**

* * *

The emergency meeting was a bit of a surprise to all of the X-Men who bothered to watch the daily news. Nothing particularly alarming was happening in the world, other than the multitude of law suits that seemed to be popping up from the Cure failing. Worthington, Inc. was going to be paying hush money for quite a while.

Storm refused to give an inch to those people that arrived early; her lips were practically clamped shut. There was a hint of an upward quirk in the corner of her mouth that dampened any worries of another imminent battle. Jubilation Lee flicked her eyes around the room, attempting to figure out the issue before it was announced. It was a bit of a game she played with Piotr – whoever could correctly identify Storm's latest neurosis got the last dessert that night.

Her first and second scans of the room revealed nothing particularly enlightening. People were filtering in every few minutes in clusters from breakfast, sitting in the usual seats like they were assigned. Sam Guthrie and new recruit Warren Worthington III each attempted to ask Storm when they came in, but she shook her head and glanced at the clock in response. Hank was nonchalantly reading the paper; Logan was glaring at Jamie as he rambled about something useless and loud; their most recent recruit Gambit was shuffling a deck of cards. Jubilee sighed after her third investigative sweep. Her final conclusion: Piotr (and everyone else) seemed just as oblivious as she was.

Another squirm in the seat across from her, and suspicious brown eyes turned to one Kitty Pryde. The tiny brunette was hovering on the edge of her seat, twitching between watching the door and checking the clock every twenty or so seconds. Even in a young woman with an infectiously high energy level like this one, it was strange behavior. With a sudden flash of comprehension and visions of a second brownie after dinner, Jubilee's gaze focused on her target. Kitty had an idea of what was going to happen, and the firecracker wasn't going to stop until she got the information she needed.

It was then that the door creaked open, and Kitty released the breath she had been holding. Tears filled her wide blue eyes and Jubilee turned in her chair to see what had the sensitive woman crying again. Her stomach dropped to her knees.

"_Rogue_?"

"Sorry. Am I late?" she murmured as she slid into her old seat beside Hank, which had remained empty since she left. Bobby was staring at her like the second coming of the Messiah from his seat beside Piotr, and she nervously tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "I couldn't remember whether meetings started at 8:00 or 8:30."

"You're right on time, Rogue," Storm smiled brightly. It was clear what the meeting was about. Jubilee let the grumpy feeling of losing the last brownie slip away the second it appeared. "Now, you have all been wondering why I have called you this morning. We're gathered to welcome one of our X-Men back to the team."

"You're back?" Kitty interrupted quietly, her voice not quite breaking. "Like, for good?"

"I'm back for good," Rogue answered in that confident drawl they all remembered, her sad eyes and slightly hunched shoulders not quite matching her tone. She swallowed hard and looked at Logan, clearly trying to direct attention away from her. As always, her savior rose to the occasion.

"And that means we're going to have to rearrange practice teams to accommodate," the Wolverine stated gruffly. He never accepted anything less than full attention when he decided to contribute to a team meeting. So, when Bobby's concentration clearly remained on Rogue while he was explaining the new battle squads, he slammed his hand into the table and let loose a rant to top all others.

Storm regained order in the meeting to go over other minor housekeeping details, and closed the discourse a half hour after the gathering began. The new recruits watched over their shoulders as they wandered off to begin their days and the original X Men remained behind. Rogue sat in her chair patiently, knowing when she agreed to attend that this was coming.

She was hugged no less than five times by her old friends; Kitty was sobbing into her shoulder for a full three minutes before Storm helped relieve her of her crying leech. The entire time she was accepting welcomes and answering questions, she was clearly suffering. Her face was growing progressively more and more exhausted, and finally Logan hollered for everyone to back off and let her have some space. He continued to hover while everyone began to disperse, with the promise of reuniting later. Bobby never came close – merely watched from his seat halfway across the room as his ex-girlfriend was welcomed home like a prodigal child.

He waited for her eyes to meet his before approaching.

"Hey," he was a little embarrassed that after three years of imagining her return, this was the best he could come up with. She seemed to respond well to it, though. Her beautiful green eyes softened and a genuine smile crossed her lips. Those lips he remembered so well: all those hours he stared at them and wondered what it would be like to –

"Hi."

"Welcome home, Marie."

Logan observed as she looked down at her gloved hands, breaking the eye contact with the Icicle for the first time since she initiated it a moment ago. He watched her pause, taking a deep breath before lifting her head back up. Her eyes glinted with the steel he loved so well – that strength that he had admired since he had first met her. The strength that brought a sixteen-year-old Southern girl fleeing from her home through untold troubles and difficulties time and again to Xavier's School for Gifted Children. The strength that said she may be broken and damaged now, but not for long.

"It's Rogue."


End file.
